


Dead hotel rooms

by Ischa



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF
Genre: Gen, Horror, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-02
Updated: 2011-07-02
Packaged: 2017-10-20 23:07:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/218080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ischa/pseuds/Ischa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Adam has conversations with the air in hotel rooms.<br/><i>“I think I would get sick after the first kill and hand myself over to the police, but I would try?” it’s more a question than anything else.<br/>“You would,” the voice says, a soft brush of air caressing Adam’s skin.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead hotel rooms

**Title:** Dead hotel rooms  
 **Pairing:** Adam gen-ish  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Summary:** In which Adam has conversations with the air in hotel rooms.  
 _“I think I would get sick after the first kill and hand myself over to the police, but I would try?” it’s more a question than anything else.  
“You would,” the voice says, a soft brush of air caressing Adam’s skin._  
 **Warning(s):** mentions of sex, possibly disturbing  
 **Author’s Notes:** Part of the 13 days to Samhain ficathon. Yes, this is AI8 fic...  
 **Word Count:** 1.204  
 **Beta:** stones_at_moons  
 **Disclaimer:** Don’t know, don’t own, not real

\--+--  
~1~  
“You can check out any time you like...“ he mutters to himself.

“But you can never leave,” the voice says. Adam shakes his head, as if he didn't know. He knows. He knows he can never leave.

“This is the worst wallpaper I've seen in a while,” he says, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes. The voice laughs like it's amused. It probably is. “I have no idea what the hell I'm even doing here,” he continues as if the voice didn't say anything. Sometimes he manages periods of time without it; he feels like a sane person then. Not normal, but sane.

“You're not, though,” the voice says. Adam keeps silent, he knows that as well. He slides down the wall to sit on the floor. No carpet, just bare floor boards, and he’s silently glad and thanks every higher power there is for it. “You're kind of squeamish, aren't you?” it asks. Adam waves it away with a hand, well knowing that it won't shut it up. He needs to think. “What about?”

“How to get rid of you,” Adam snaps. An old argument.

The voice laughs again, it feels like a caress on his skin. He shivers. It's not unpleasant and that’s exactly the fucking problem.

“You'll never...” it whispers.

“I would, if I knew how,” Adam answers. He isn't sure, not anymore, but maybe he would try.

“You _would_ try,” the voice says. It sounds convinced. At least one of them is, Adam thinks bitterly.  
He exhales and fishes inside his jacket pocket for his cigarettes. Takes the crumpled pack out and lights one without caring if he should, if he can, if he is allowed to. He never really cared if he was allowed to. Life is too short to live by all the rules, and besides, they’re made by others anyway.

Adam lives by his own rules. It’s easier that way. He exhales and watches the smoke dispense in the air.

“You know,” he says, “this might be the first step into insanity.”

“If it were you would’ve lost that battle years ago,” the voice answers. It sounds rather tired.

“Sane people don’t hear voices in their heads. It’s always the crazy ones,” Adam takes another drag of his cigarette.

“You are not ordinary, Adam.”

“I know that,” he answers, because he does know that.

~+~  
It started a few years back and he thought then that he was going insane, but the voice didn’t want him to light anything on fire or slit someone’s throat. So he figured it was his own subconscious and repressed sexuality or whatever. He was a teenager then. Things don’t always make sense when you’re a teenager. They usually don’t make sense.

~+~  
Now he knows that it’s none of these things. This is something else. In the privacy of his head he calls it his demon – not that his head is very private. After all, this thing can read his mind. Not always. It seems like there are phases when it’s stronger. And when that happens Adam packs his stuff and hits the road to be alone with his demon. Usually he drives until his car breaks down of lack of gas and then looks for a hotel or an apartment or a house to rent.

That’s how he ended up here. Wherever the hell here is. A small, nondescript town on the coast. The wind is strong and cold, the small hotel room he rented is sparely furnished. Adam doesn’t care. He won’t stay long anyway.

He never does.

 

~2~  
“If I told you that you’d have to kill ten virgins to get rid of me would you do it?” the voice asks, Adam pours his third drink in 30 minutes and sips on it, thinking carefully.

“Maybe,” he says after a long silence.

The voice laughs delightedly. “I didn’t think you would.”

“I think I would get sick after the first kill and hand myself over to the police, but I would try?” it’s more a question than anything else.

“You would,” the voice says, a soft brush of air caressing Adam’s skin.

“It’s not the way to get rid of you, is it?” Adam asks.

“No.”

Adam nods, gulping his drink down in one go and pouring another glass. He honestly doesn’t know why he bothers with a glass anyway.

~+~  
It’s easier to deal with the whole thing when he’s drunk. It’s easier to pretend he is with someone real instead of a voice without a body. Just breezes of air that feel like touches. Too intimate, too close, too…something he doesn’t like to think about.

Adam knows the thing is not a ghost. He asked once and strangely enough he believes everything the demon says. It might be stupid, but it never did anything to hurt Adam. Until now the small voice in his head says that Adam sometimes calls it Sanity (in capital letters and all).

~+~  
“Would you tell me if I guessed right?” Adam says.

The voice doesn’t even pretend to not know what Adam is asking about. “Yes.”

“It sounds like you think I’ll never guess right anyway,” Adam says.

“The changes are slim,” the demon answers. Its voice sounds like it's shrugging. It’s kind of disturbing. Adam lights another cigarette.

 

~3~  
He’s in the hotel room for nearly five days. It never took the demon so long to go away. When Adam thinks about it, it somehow seems like it’s getting stronger.

“I am,” the voice says close to his ear. He shivers. There is a certain ring to that voice, a quality he himself uses when he wants someone. The demon laughs.

“This is insane,” Adam breaths, closing his eyes.

“But didn’t you know that all along?” the demon asks and settles heavily onto Adam’s legs. It feels like a solid body, but he can’t see it or touch it. It’s only air. Light teasing touches paired with a voice that makes it hard to breathe sometimes.

~+~  
The whole thing started when Adam was fifteen and it wasn’t okay then and it isn’t okay now, but he never said stop.

~+~  
When he wakes up to sunlight the next morning he feels drained. Like he didn’t sleep for months. It never used to be that way before. He blinks against the too harsh light and stretches. The sheets feel funny and not in a good way. Everything feels kinda off.

“Good morning sunshine,” the voice says and Adam turns around in its direction. He doesn’t think he will _see_ something but there it is. A solid body.  
His solid body.

“What the hell?” he asks, getting up. He can see his body, he can feel it, but it’s not there.

“I’m borrowing it for a while,” the demon says, “You’ll get it back…sometime soon-ish.” It grins. The smile looks wrong on Adam’s face. And then he just leaves. It, it just leaves and Adam stays in an empty hotel room.

~end~


End file.
